


Flu Season

by xoxomj



Category: Jagged Little Pill - Morissette & Ballard/Morissette/Cody
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-05
Updated: 2020-03-28
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:55:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23021314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xoxomj/pseuds/xoxomj
Summary: MJ gets sick post-overdose. Fluffy!
Relationships: Mary Jane "MJ" Healy/Steve Healy
Comments: 1
Kudos: 14





	1. Just a Flu

MJ can feel a dull throb in her head. She doesn’t want to wake up, but Steve’s alarm is going off. Not opening her eyes, she rolls over, curling up against Steve’s body, brow furrowed.

“Good morning.” Steve murmurs, turning off his alarm and wrapping an arm around MJ. “Jesus, you’re hot.”

“Thanks.” She replies hoarsely.

“I mean, yeah, but like. You’re hot to touch. Like I can feel heat radiating off of you.”

MJ shivers in response, pressing herself closer to Steve’s warmth. Her muscles ache terribly, and getting up is the absolute last thing she wants to do right now. Steve presses the back of his cool hand against her forehead.

“My god, you’re burning up.”

MJ coughs, her eyes still closed.

“I’ll get the thermometer.” Steve gently extricates himself from the covers, trying not to disturb them too much.

“No… don’t go.” MJ whimpers. “You’re so warm…”

“I’ll be right back.” He promises. 

Steve enters their bathroom and starts rummaging through drawers. He has no idea where the thermometer is, MJ usually put everything away in the bathroom.

“It’s in the third drawer on the far left.” MJ calls out, her voice scratchy. She coughs again. “Oof. That doesn’t sound good.” She says out loud to herself.

Steve enters shortly with the thermometer. She reluctantly opens her eyes and pulls herself into a sitting position. He brushes some hair away from her eyes tenderly as she blinks, adjusting to the morning light. “Open.” MJ opens her mouth dutifully. Steve sticks the thermometer in, before wrapping another blanket around her shoulders as she shivers.

The thermometer beeps. MJ takes it out and groans, lying back down. “101.” She says, pulling the covers over her head.

Suddenly she sits back up. “Steve, you’re gonna be late for wo-“ She’s interrupted by a coughing fit that shakes her whole body, making her eyes water. Steve sits next to her silently, rubbing her back, not making any move to leave. He looks worried.

“I’m calling out.” He says quietly, as she calms down. He gently pushes her back down onto the bed and tucks the covers around her.

“For me? No, Steve, I can take care of myself, it’s flu season anyway.” 

“I don’t want you to be here alone.”

“Steve, nothing’s going to happen. It’s just the flu.”

“Sh.” He puts a finger against her lips. “I want to do this. It’ll be fine, we’re not doing anything crazy at work anyway.”

MJ sighs. Clearly nothing she’s going to say will stop him from staying home with her. She shivers again, and turns away from Steve, pulling the covers over her head.

“I’m going to call work, make you some soup, and then I’ll be back, okay?” 

MJ sticks an arm out from under the covers and gives him a thumbs up, still hiding her face.

Steve leaves the room and closes the door behind him, letting out the breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. He walks rapidly down to the kitchen as he places a call to work, before making a can of chicken noodle soup.

MJ being sick scared Steve shitless. She’d had colds, headaches, migraines, panic attacks and the like, but this is definitely the first time she’d been really sick since she left rehab. He’s absolutely terrified of her slipping back into any kind of old habits. So anything he could do to help ease the pain, make her life easier, make sure she didn’t take any medication she isn’t supposed to (or more than the alotted amount)...

He shakes his head, not allowing himself to go down that path. MJ had made so much progress since her overdose. Therapy is exhausting, but going well. She goes regularly once a week now. She’s much less closed off, much better at communicating her needs, and much better at asking for help and letting others help her. Steve is also paying much better attention.

Steve returns a few minutes later with a steaming bowl of soup and a cup of hot tea. MJ is still burrowed beneath the covers.

“Hey, I’ve got some soup and tea for you.” He says quietly, setting the cup down on her bedside table before sitting on bed, bowl in hand.

MJ peeks her head out from the covers. Steve is surprised by how red her cheeks are, a flush from how feverish she is. “Are you still cold?” MJ nods, shivering. “I can turn the thermostat up in a bit.”

MJ pulls herself out from the blankets, her muscles screaming at her for moving. “God this is the worst.” She says hoarsely, rubbing her temples. Her head is pounding incessantly, and her throat is on fire.

“Here.” Steve holds a spoonful of soup in front of her, and MJ drinks it gratefully. After a few spoonfuls, though, MJ can feel her body getting tired from sitting up and shakes her head at Steve’s outstretched hand.

“I think I’m done, I’m just gonna sleep now.” She coughs before lying back down and curling up. Steve tucks the blankets around her gently and feels her forehead again. “I don’t think my temperature would have changed in the past 20 minutes.” She comments wryly, smiling weakly at him.

“Just checking.”

“It’s just a little flu.”

“I know.” He says, pushing some hair away from her eyes. He kisses her forehead gently and caresses her cheek. “Do you want me to stay with you?”

“I’ll be fine.”

“MJ-“

“Steve, I promise I’ll be okay. I’m not going to do anything crazy, I’m just going to sleep.” MJ says softly. She can hear the tone of warning and worry in his voice, recognizing he’s probably scared of what she might do if he leaves. Fair enough. She leans into his touch, closing her eyes, hoping to reassure him.

“Okay.” Steve says, conceding.

MJ offers him a small smile, before turning onto her side, curling herself tighter under the blankets. She shivers. A few minutes later, she feels Steve cover her with another blanket, and then hears him leave the room. The pounding in her head has lessened slightly, and she takes that small break to try and fall asleep.

But sleep evades her. She can’t seem to get warm, the tickle in her throat won’t go away, and the pain in her head comes back every time she’s just about to doze off. And it doesn’t help that Steve checks on her every 10 minutes and feels her forehead every 20, so the door opens and closes and as quiet as he tries to be, he still makes noise.

On what seems like Steve’s umpteenth time checking on MJ, she can’t pretend anymore. “Steve, you need to stop checking on me so often. I can’t sleep.” She says hoarsely, turning over to face him. 

She’s surprised by how scared he looks, the genuine worry on his face, and her expression softens. She reaches out to him, inviting him to join her in the bed. A little selfishly, too, because he’s so warm.

“I just want to make sure you’re okay.” He says quietly, taking her outstretched arm and sliding in under the covers next to her. She presses herself against him, clinging to him, trying to leech some of his warmth.

“It really is just the flu, I’m fine. I’m just cold and tired.” She murmurs, curling herself tight against his chest.

“I can’t lose you again.” He says softly, wrapping his arms around her, rubbing her back. She sighs in contentment, reveling in the feel of his strong hands easing some of her tense muscles. He’s being a bit dramatic, she thinks, but it’s endearing. And he does have reason to be scared. He pays so much attention now, sometimes a little too much attention, but to be fair to him, he didn’t pay enough attention before and look where that had led them. His big logical detail oriented lawyer brain probably berates him enough for being so clueless, now he’s trying to make up for it.

She starts to cough, and turns away from Steve so that she doesn’t have her coughing fit on him. But he rolls her back and lets her cough into his shirt, still rubbing her back.

“You don’t have to stay.” She says quietly, after she finishes coughing.

“I want to.”

“I know.” She whispers, a small smile on her lips. MJ rests her head against his arm, and Steve can feel her finally relax on him, allowing him to support her. Her eyes are suddenly so heavy, she can’t keep them open. “I don’t want you to get sick.” She says sleepily, eyes closed.

“I’ll be fine.” He replies. “Besides. It is flu season.” She chuckles softly in response, before sleep overtakes her. As Steve rubs her back, he feels her breathing slow and even out. MJ’s finally asleep.


	2. Chickenpox

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> MJ actually has chickenpox.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought why not give MJ chickenpox too? And then I looked up chickenpox symptoms and they're very similar to flu so I just added it to this. Still kinda fluffy!

MJ staggers into the bathroom and makes a beeline for the toilet. It’s 2am, and she’s woken up 5 or 6 times already, mostly because she’s been wildly uncomfortable — the pounding in her head will NOT go away, and she’s cold. She keeps adding layers.

She glances at herself in the mirror. Ugh. She doesn’t look any better than she did earlier. Of course she doesn’t, she hasn’t slept. Her eyes are red from not sleeping well, and her face is flushed from how warm she knows she is.

She sighs, washing her hands. A wave of dizziness suddenly overcomes her, and she moans involuntarily, putting her hands on the counter to steady herself.

Steve has had a restless night too. He’d spent too much time worrying about MJ to sleep soundly, and had basically woken up every time MJ did. He hears her moan in the bathroom, and sits up, immediately, concerned. He turns on his lamp before walking over. “MJ? It’s me. Are you okay?”

MJ closes her eyes, trying to orient herself. The room feels like it’s spinning. She moans again.

“I’m going to come in, okay?” 

“No, it’s fine, I’m coming out.” MJ says hoarsely. She manages to get to the door, opening it. Steve is already by the door.

“MJ, maybe we should give you some Nyquil so you can sleep-“

MJ’s eyes suddenly roll back, her knees buckle and she faints, right into Steve’s arms.

Steve feels his heart stop. Shit. 

MJ is only unconscious for thirty seconds but sure enough the memory of finding her right after she overdosed comes rushing back. He can feel the all too familiar panic rise in him all over again.

As she comes to, bleary eyed and dazed, she blinks a few times, surprised to find herself in Steve’s arms. “Oh thank god.” He says breathlessly, taking deep breaths and swallowing his initial panic. He rubs MJ’s back, holding onto her. “Can you stand?”

She stands tentatively, before her knees buckle beneath her again. Steve shifts so that he’s supporting her more, and she manages to move forward. She’s tremendously unsteady on her feet, and pretty confused. “What happened?”

“You passed out, but only briefly.” Steve replies quietly, helping her into bed. 

She shivers, holding onto him, not letting go. “I’m cold.” She whimpers, shivering again. Steve sits by her side, brushing some hair out of her eyes. He frowns after feeling how warm her cheek is, and uses the back of his hand to feel her forehead. She’s hotter, still. He feels panic rise in him again, the memory of her withdrawal fevers hitting him. 

“We’re going to take your temperature again, okay?” He speaks calmly, softly, even though he doesn’t feel that at all. 

MJ doesn’t respond, still clinging to Steve’s arm. Steve wraps a blanket around her shoulders, before taking the thermometer on her bedside table. “Open.” She does, allowing him to stick the thermometer under her tongue. She whimpers again as her chest starts to hurt, pressing herself closer to Steve. “Where does it hurt?” He asks gently. 

“Everywhere.” She whispers. And it does. She’s sore and achey and her head is pounding again and she feels a persistent pressure right behind her eyes and her chest hurts when she breathes and she’s still so fucking cold. He rubs her back again, trying his best to soothe whatever discomfort she’s feeling.

The thermometer beeps, and Steve reads it. Shit. 103 F. He’s got to call someone. 

“What is it?” She asks hoarsely, as she looks at the worried expression on her face.

“103.” He says, trying his best to remain calm.

“Ugh.” She groans.

“I’m going to call someone.” Steve moves to get up from the bed.

“But it’s 2am.” She whines, not letting go. “I don’t want to inconvenience anyone.” 

“You have a fever of 103, I think we’re okay.” Steve replies, as she reluctantly lets go of his arm. He goes to his side of the bed and grabs his cell phone. MJ rolls over to his side and holds onto him again, curling herself into his side. He’s warm and cuddly, and she just needs some comfort. 

Steve scrolls through his phone as he wraps an arm around MJ again. He finds his friend’s number, and calls him.

“Steve? It’s 2am.” A voice on the other end says. 

“I know, I know. I just, I need some help, and I knew you’d be up.” Steve looks down at MJ, who has fallen asleep next to him, hugging his arm. She still looks flushed. 

“Fair enough. Shoot.” 

“Okay, so MJ had a 101 fever earlier today, and she spent most of the day sleeping on and off. I gave her soup and some Tylenol, but it didn’t seem to help. I just checked and her fever is 103 now. She also fainted right before.” MJ shifts against him, still asleep. He feels her head again; still burning.

“Did she have any other symptoms?”

“She has a bit of a cough, and she said she had a really bad headache.” 

“Okay. It sounds like she might have a high-grade fever. Just keep an eye on her and make sure she keeps hydrated, but if it gets above 104 it would be good to bring her to a hospital.”

“If it’s above 104?” Steve asks faintly.

“Yeah.”

Steve takes a deep breath. He feels MJ shift against him again, and looks down at her. Her brow is furrowed in pain, and she’s starting to sweat a little bit.

“Can I give her Nyquil? She’s been having trouble sleeping.”

“Oh, Nyquil will knock her right out. Sure, go ahead.”

“Thanks.” Steve says. He’s silent for a while, as he brushes a sweaty strand of hair away from MJ’s face.

“Is there anything else?”

“No, I don’t think so.” He says quietly. “Thanks for your advice.”

“No problem. Just keep an eye on her temperature and keep her hydrated.” 

“Will do.” Steve hangs up. MJ stirs against him, shifting again. He sighs, not wanting to disrupt her sleep, but knowing Nyquil will help her sleep well for a few hours at least. “Hey, MJ.” He nudges her gently.

“Huh?” She’s clearly out of it, maybe a little bit delirious. “Whatcha dooooin’?” She asks, looking up at him, bemused. If Steve weren’t so damn worried about her this would be comical.

“I’m gonna go get you some Nyquil, okay? Can you stay awake for just a little bit?”

“I’m awake, I’m awake.” She says sleepily, rubbing her eyes. She yawns as Steve gets up from the bed and retrieves a Nyquil pill from their medicine cabinet.

“Here. You’ll sleep better.”

“But I won’t be able to get up to make breakfast.” She pouts, refusing the pill.

Steve chuckles. “You’re definitely not going to be making breakfast tomorrow. Come on, MJ. Open.”

MJ opens her mouth and allows Steve to put the Nyquil on her tongue. He hands her a bottle of water by the bed and she drinks it, swallowing the pill. 

“Does it still hurt?” He asks tenderly, as he puts back the water and gently pushes her back onto the bed, resting her head on her pillow. He smooths some of her messy hair down.

“Yea.” She says softly, biting her lip. Steve extends his arm, and she rolls into his side again, clinging to him.

“Are you still cold?”

MJ shivers in response. Steve pulls the blankets over her, tucking them around her shoulders. Still, she shivers and clutches him tightly, whimpering, as Steve rubs her back in gentle, soothing circles.

Within minutes, though, the Nyquil kicks in, and MJ is asleep.

Steve, however, has another restless night ahead of him. Keep an eye on her? Yes, he sure will.

But soon enough, he falls asleep too, one arm wrapped around MJ securely, holding her tightly against him. He doesn’t want to let her go.

~

MJ wakes up, the pain behind her eyes not as intense, but suddenly extraordinarily itchy. All over, especially on her face and her chest. Like mosquitos attacked her while she had been asleep. She rubs her chest, alleviating some of the itchiness. She moans softly, her headache still throbbing away and her body achey as hell.

Steve, awake for some time, is working from home again, one arm wrapped around MJ protectively. He feels her stir and puts his work to the side, looking down at her. Were those red spots there before? He doesn’t recall seeing them when he woke up. Her temperature didn’t seem to have changed for better or worse, and he’d been waiting for her to get up so that he could confirm his guess.

“Morning.” Steve says softly, loosening his grip on MJ so she can stretch.

MJ groans in response, still feeling absolutely terrible, and now itchy on top of it all. She scratches her chest again, the skin becoming red and angry. She moves to scratch her face, before Steve stills her hands.

“Is this... some sort of rash? Did you eat something you’re allergic to?”

“I don’t know, but I’m so itchy.” She replies, wrenching her hands out of Steve’s grasp and scratching her forehead.

Steve sighs. “Don’t scratch.” He says automatically, holding her hands again. She frowns at him, annoyed that he won’t free her hands. “I need to take your temperature again. Open.”

He takes the thermometer from his bedside table and sticks it in her mouth. “You know, you don’t have to tell me to open my mouth every time.” MJ says, muffled and annoyed. 

“Sh.” Steve shushes her as MJ rolls her eyes. Steve can feel her wanting to scratch and trying to tug away from him, but keeps a firm grasp on her hands. The thermometer beeps.

“102.5. So it’s gone down a bit but still not great. You need to hydrate.” He says matter of factly. 

“I’m itchy let me SCRATCH.” She whines.

“No, you’ll make it worse. Did you eat something weird yesterday?”

“I don’t know, you brought me all my food.” She says irritably. 

“Hm…” Steve is deep in thought, and for a moment, loosens his grip on her hands. She immediately scoots farther away and scratches her face and her chest. “No. MJ-“ He grabs her hands again. MJ tries to wrestle her hands from him but she’s too weak to do so. She sighs and gives up in defeat. Suddenly, a thought occurs to him. “MJ, you haven’t had chickenpox.”

“I haven’t. Yep.” She says, oblivious to what he’s theorizing.

“MJ, you have chickenpox.”

“No, I haven’t had chickenpox. That’s why your mom had to come take care of Frankie when she did, remember?” She looks at him like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“No, I know you haven’t had it, I’m saying that now you have it.” Steve says patiently. MJ is still a little delirious and not making sense, it seems.

Realization dawns on her. “Oh.” A beat, as she takes this in. “Okay. Can you let me scratch, then?” She looks up at him, pleading.

“No.” He laughs at her expression. “Later, I’ll go get some calamine lotion, but for now I’m going to tape socks on your hands so you don’t scratch.” It takes some maneuvering and wrestling as MJ resists him, but he takes one of the three pairs of socks MJ is wearing on her feet and covers her hands with them.

“Steve?”

“Yes, sweetie?”

“Fuck you.”


End file.
